All Posts in "Yank"

As I’ve said before, the EU is big on “green”.  Most political parties have some “green” agenda.  One of the big issues in this regard is the excess packaging on foods.  We have noticed this excessive packaging both here and in the US.  But the US does not make such a big stink about it.  Perhaps, now, with all the “global warming” and “climate change” talks, the US might follow suit.  Retailers are being fined for excessive packaging and most have reduced their packaging significantly.  However, the government is not fully satisfied.[ad#ad-1]

One way I’d like to suggest to reduce packaging is by making larger packages.  Many might think this is clearly greedy American thinking and would increase waste.  But that is not so.  For example, I remember going to Sam’s or even Wal-Mart and buying the large 10-lb. bags of frozen boneless, skinless chicken breasts.  It lasted us a while.  We weren’t constantly having to do a “big” shopping every week.  Here, the best you can do is a 2-kg bag of chicken quarters with skin and bones.  Now, I don’t mind skin and bones; I think it adds more flavour.  But, the problem is that you have less meat to work with, so you run out very quickly when you’re making dinners.  There is clearly less packaging in that one 10-lb. bag than in 2-3 2-kg. bags.  I don’t know how the Brits see this, especially because they do have smaller freezers.  But it should be an option for many of us.

Yes, I miss buying in bulk.  I’ve seen that many expatriates have discovered Costco.  But there are few of these around and without jobs, you can’t even be a member.  I miss being able to buy frozen foods for more than just one meal at a time.

Yank by — June 10, 2009 in British Culture 2

I have been unable to blog as conscientiously as I was for a while.  The political scene has been quite absorbing, even though, confusing at times.  In addition, we have been trying to reduce our amount of driving, so we have been hanging around near the town where our kids go to school.  Hence, the decrease in time spent in front of the computer.

In some ways, it is good.  It means we are spending more time outdoors and getting some exercise.  Yesterday, we followed a footpath in Lindfield which led into the commons.  On our return, we took a different route in the footpath and surprisingly, found ourselves in the middle of a nature reserve – right in the middle of Haywards Heath. The woods shut out all the city noises and you could hear birds singing in the trees.  Very relaxing. 

The disappointment came when we reached the end and found ourselves facing what we would have called in the US, “the projects”.  These were obviously old council homes, many of which have been abandoned and boarded up.  We had never seen this area, though we had travelled on the roads near it.  That’s because it is well-hidden behind all the newer and nicer neighbourhoods.  It’s unbelievable to look from one side of the road to the other and see the differences.  Such a shame as well.  Council homes do not need to be allowed to run down.

The footpath showed us so much diversity that we’re hoping to explore more as the weather improves.  Even if it means squeezing between the narrow paths with brambles and stinging nettles on all sides.

Yank by — June 9, 2009 in Leisure 0

Ferries arriving at Dover from the ContinentFinally, we put our English Heritage membership into use this weekend. We joined when we visited Battle Abbey, but we have not used it otherwise. But, when it came to debating our options for fun this weekend, we chose to spend the money on fuel rather than entrance fees. So, we went to Dover.

Unfortunately, the Tower Keep at Dover Castle was closed for renovations. To make up for this, they offered tours of the Medieval Tunnels. We decided to tour the Tunnels ourselves, but we did join in the tour of the Secret Wartime Tunnels (which you cannot tour at your own leisure). This month is also “Tudor Month”, which meant they had some learning activities related to the Tudors and the Medieval era for children, though it was entertaining for adults, as well.

The views from the castle grounds across the Channel from the look-out posts were spectacular. You could see France in the horizon, though, as the day progressed, dark clouds over the Continent blurred the vista. Aerial views of Dover Castle and the White Cliffs were inaccessible to us, however, so we had to content ourselves with a small side view of the cliffs. There were numerous ferries coming and going to the Continent.

The ruins of the Roman lighthouse still stand next to the restored Saxon church, which was deceptively spacious. I’ve been inside many large churches and found that the interior was quite small, possibly because of the construction of pillars and such on the inside. This church was relatively plain and the pews were pushed up against the walls, so it gave a more open atmosphere. Unlike the plain stone walls of Norman churches, these were tiled and painted in different designs (some looking rather Byzantine).

The Medieval Tunnels were on three different levels. On the first level, there was a spot, over which a grate protected the unwary visitor, where you could look down to the bottom. Yet, we never reached that spot when we went down the stairs, so I have no idea where that tunnel was. There were several dead ends and blind spots, not to mention the requisite spiral staircases. Perfect inspiration for a gothic romance, if I ever get to the point of writing one.[ad#ad-1]

The Secret Wartime Tunnels were definitely worth a visit. To imagine a large group of people living and working in such a close, confined environment seems incredible to us now. And, if the sample foods they had on display were indicative of their diet, it’s no wonder they managed to stay skinny back then. The tour began with a 10 minute video about the tunnels and the Dunkirk rescue as well as D-Day landings. How appropriate that we went this week-end. (How appropriate also that Henry Allingham turned 113 this week-end – we thought about sending him a card.) The tour guide made our Buppa 2nd in command, though she wouldn’t open her mouth to talk to him. Photography was not allowed, he stated at the beginning. Then, later he left us alone in the operation theatre saying he would be out for 20 seconds. When he returned, he warned that photography was not allowed in his presence. At the end, we were left to finish the tour at our leisure, where we could look into the telephone/telegraph/control rooms. Everything appeared in very good order, although he did tell us that the elevator was dodgy (a post-war addition). We were informed that there are parts of the tunnel that remain undiscovered since it was abandoned after the war. These must have been behind some locked doors because I could not appreciate any obvious secret passages. Oh, by the way, there is a quiz on how many steps on the spiral staircase. The answer is 72, though I counted 71 and my husband counted 73. We’ll have to do that again another time.

Yank by — June 8, 2009 in Leisure 1

All right, this has very little to do with Britain itself, but it’s too sweet a story not to tell.[ad#ad-1]

Our little Buppa, has been quite attached to her little Pooh Bear.  It’s a small teddy with beanie stuffing.  I can’t even remember who gave it to her.  Actually, I believe it may have been given to her older sister, but it has been her favourite for a long time.  What’s funny is that we never really attached any significance to her singling this teddy out.  Recently, she showed us a picture when she was in pre-school and they were allowed to bring in a teddy and it was this teddy.  She favoured it without showing too much favouritism.  However, near the end of the time we were in the States, she did use to bring it with her to the gym and all.  But, it was nothing like it has been since then.

When we came to the UK, Pooh was one of a select few that travelled with her, rather than being shipped over.  Since then, he has not left her side.  She sleeps with him, takes him everywhere, even to school.  She clung to  him the first day and they allowed her to bring him in, but leaving him in her school bag.  She was allowed to take him out for playtime, where some of the other kids occasionally abused him.  This upsets her sometimes.  But she continued to take him.

But, yesterday, she decided to keep him behind.  I asked if she wanted me to put him in the bag and she said ‘no’.  She were confused about that and wondered if a friend said or did something at school.  This morning, she bade him a long good-bye, and my husband asked why she wasn’t taking him.  She answered, “Because there might be a fire at school”.  Then we remembered that they had a fire drill in school two days ago.

We wondered what must have been going through her head when the drill went off and the teachers told them to file out, leaving all their belongings behind.  She must have been devastated to realise that in the event of a real fire, she would have to leave her beloved Pooh behind.  So, she has made the decision to leave him at home, where he would be safe.  We couldn’t possibly tell her that a fire could start just about anywhere.  I wonder what she’ll be like if and when she becomes a real mother (many, many, many years in the future, I hope).

Yank by — June 5, 2009 in My Journey 1

I’ve already mentioned the helpful motorists in times of need. Now, I’m moving on to the opposite end of the spectrum.  The rude, obnoxious drivers who inspire road rage in the best of us.[ad#ad-1]

We all know Britain has narrow roads, at least, much narrower than in the US.  I cannot compare it to any other European countries.  We understand that in order to get around as safely and effectively as possible, we all need to give and take, respect other drivers, and share the road.  For the most part, it works.  But, all too frequently, we run into a road hogger.  Yes, you know the ones I mean.  The ones who think they own the road and that everyone needs to bow to their needs.  They’re willing to risk crashing into you, though they drive like speed demons that they manage to get out of your way in that last split second.

Yesterday, we drove through a small town with said narrow road.  The street was made even narrower by cars parked on the right hand side.  Sometimes, we find that even with parked cars, there is sufficient room for two cars to move through, as long as you’re careful.  I say this because there have been times when people have not been careful and being too cautious, they give too much room to the parked cars and force us to scratch our wheels on the opposite kerb.  But, yesterday’s experience was beyond belief.

We were driving down the road with the parked cars on our right.  The street was too narrow for another vehicle to pass through (unless it was an obnoxious motorcycle, but that’s beside the point).  Up ahead, we see a lorry truck coming on.  But, instead of waiting behind the parked cars until we get through (which is the rule under the Highway Code) because we had right of way, he decides to come head-on against us.  Of course, we were forced to stop, and he knew it.  Our only other choice was to climb the pavement, but we wouldn’t have gotten very far, because there was a bus shelter where the truck stopped.  He refused to budge and we had to back up 200 ft. for his convenience.  After backing up a little way, there was sufficient room on the right between parked cars for the truck to move into, but he refused to move until we had backed completely up the road.  As we were backing up and he was standing there, several other cars moved behind him.  What were THEY thinking?  Of course, they couldn’t see us, but when the road is that narrow and you see a vehicle stopped in front on the opposite side, wouldn’t you pull off to your side to let things resolve themselves?  After all, you’re driving in contraflow traffic.

It would have been brilliantly clever if we could have somehow made our car break down at that particular moment.  What sweet revenge.  He would have been cursing high and low and we would have had to make all of them back up (which was a shorter distance than what we did). But, alas, cars have a mind of their own.  That truck driver was lucky we weren’t the type of people who would have given in to road rage to commit GBH.  Our rage merely consists of declaring how stupid some people can be.

Yank by — June 3, 2009 in My Journey 1

This weekend was the perfect example of the summertime British festivities. [ad#ad-1]

We were aware of one fayre in our general area, but would have been unable to make it due to other commitments.  Namely, Stagecoach.  But, when we arrived at the school for Stagecoach, the kids refused to go.  The older one was tired after her morning gymnastics practice and had a meet the next day.  The younger was really just feeling lazy and used her stomach as an excuse again. 

However, she had homework for the mid-term break, so we decided to stay in the town and get the homework done – it required mapping out one of the main streets.  Afterwards, they wanted ice cream.  We thought we’d stop for ice cream and they might change their minds about Stagecoach, since we were an hour early.  However, on our way to get ice cream, we drove through Lindfield, a small village surrounding Haywards Heath.  Right there in the center, was a fayre.  And a very proper and traditional British fayre it was.  Rides, games, stalls, tombola, raffles, fancy dress competition, and food.  Things missing were shows, races and physical competitions.

Needless to say, they wanted to stop for that.  In the midst of having fun in the fun house and spending money on games, they forgot about their ice cream.  That is, until we had to leave when we ran out of money.  They still refused Stagecoach, but they wanted their ice cream.

Next day, we had the gymnastics competition in Horsham.  Our daughter competed in the morning session (8:30-12:00), but she wanted to stay for the afternoon session to watch other teammates.  In the middle of it, she was tired and wanted to go outside to play.  I stayed to keep our seats, while my husband took the girls out for a short spell.  It was unbelievably hot and the younger one came in after a while saying she didn’t feel well because of the heat. 
However, there was a fun-fair right there in the park where the gym was.  I believe it was a charity event.  The kids wanted to stay after the competition to enjoy the fair, but we were exhausted, especially since we had only been snacking all day.  We needed real food and were not about to pay a lot of money on junk at the fair.

But this weekend showed us that we were entering the season of fun.  On the way to the gym, we saw signs for a horse show and another for a dog show.  All of this, happening in one weekend.  I hope we survive this summer without going bankrupt or dealing with too many tantrums.

Yank by — June 1, 2009 in British Culture 0
The return of the reds

When Walker’s decided to create new flavours for its crisps, one of the popular ones was Cajun Squirrel.  I never tasted it, and I don’t know which one Walker’s will decide to eventually add to its line, but I just thought Cajun Squirrel was a silly joke.  Apparently, this is not the case.

The campaign to reintroduce and protect the red squirrel has been so successful in the north, that the man behind the campaign is moving south to do the job.  He has reported that the gray squirrels are a delicacy and have been in great demand at butcher’s and restaurants.  (I wonder if Walker’s has been putting in orders.)  In the US, we called them “road kill” (and, yes, people in the US have devised a wide selection of road kill recipes), but here, the squirrels are trapped.

It doesn’t sound very fair to the grays, and I do wonder if there’s a difference in the taste between the grays and the reds.  And what about the blacks?  They’re still quite rare over here.  I hope they don’t end up killing all the grays.  In the US, we had the full range of colours.  We even had bi-racial squirrels running around our yard – red fur covering half the way, black the rest, and various other combinations.  I hope this doesn’t become a one-squirrel country.

Yank by — May 29, 2009 in Wildlife 0

We opted for the Fletching village fete.  It was spread out across the village cricket green with various stalls.  One section was reserved for the vintage car show.  Then there was the bell-ringing in the church.  That was unique.  My husband and our younger daughter participated in that.  Meanwhile, our older daughter and I visited the art exhibit within the church.  Quite an impressive display, and though she could not afford it, our daughter wanted to buy several paintings.  I must say, it would have been nice to support the local talent.[ad#ad-1]

The atmosphere of the fete was quite subdued, and I wondered if that was the case for all fetes.  As I understand it, the difference between a fete and a fayre is that the fayres usually have competitive games and rides.  Of course, the Rusper fayre did not have rides, but it did have games.  This fete had some children’s games, a bowling pitch, clay pigeon shoot, and air water-bottles, but no participatory competitions.  The fayres concentrated more on fun, whereas the fetes concentrated on sales.  There were various stalls from different charities and organisations, selling books and other items for funds.  Others sold plants and produce, jams, etc.

Of course, the distinctions between fayres and fetes have probably dissolved over the years, with many churches and villages changing the venues.  It’s getting harder to define these traditional British celebrations.  We still have yet to experience the carnivals.  In the US, the word “carnival” is used so loosely to mean a fun-fair, that it will be a new experience.  Of course, we had parades in the US, but it was never followed with a fayre.

Yank by — May 26, 2009 in Leisure 2

It was a beautiful warm day yesterday, so we decided to go to the beach again.  This time, we went to Saltdean.  The tide was low, exposing all the chalky rocks covered with seaweed.  It’s an unbelievable sight, set against the chalky cliffs, with the promenades in between.  Unfortunately, we did not bring the camera.  We had debated it and was unsure what we would end up doing, so we didn’t have it.  It would have been too much to carry around while we were exploring the rock pools.[ad#ad-1]

It was fun and educational for the kids, but we learned a few lessons.  First, we need to make a list of things to bring when we go on such outings.  It seems we’re never properly prepared.  Perhaps, if I make a list now, I won’t forget next time.  Here’s what I’ll need to remember next time: hat (none of us have ever been in the habit of wearing hats), sunglasses (not an option for all of us), extra bag (to carry things that the kids collect), carry-all bag (because the kids never like to carry what they packed), waterproof shoes, bucket and shovel, towels, blanket.  I’m sure the list will grow as our outings increase in frequency.  I’ve also learned not to encourage the kids to bring too much, because it only adds to the weight on my shoulders.

After exploring the pools from Saltdean to Rottingdean (a famous smuggling town that I need to read up on), we stopped to get some drinks and snacks and walked back to Saltdean along the cliff path.  The views were awesome. We then drove over to Brighton, passing the famous Rottingdean windmill (which we’ll need to visit someday). 

We parked up near the marina and decided to walk towards the pier.  It was some distance away, but the kids ran towards the beach instead.  It was a shingle beach, not a sandy one, and walking on it was rough.  I looked up and read the sign “Boundary of Naturist Beach”.  I didn’t know what to make of it, but after walking a little ways, my husband suddenly remembers.  He recalled something about a nudist beach at Brighton and he thought that’s what “naturist” meant.  However, we doubted anyone would be out in their birthday suits at that time (evening).  Yet, the kids had run ahead and he thought it safest to take them away from the area.  Well, it was too late.  They had reached the edge, and just beyond, we saw some naked bathers.  We tried to call them over but they refused and kept going further.  They even rebelled and sat down, refusing to move.  We kept going and eventually they followed.  My husband insisted we go after them and after a while, I decided to turn back to get them.  But it only made them think that we were giving in and they started turning back towards the nudist beach.  Eventually, I had to yell at them to listen (they are very stubborn) before they stopped and we got them to us.  They both insisted they saw nothing, but we found that hard to believe.  Were we over-reacting or did they really notice nothing?

Well, we managed to get them away.  It was getting dark, so they didn’t want to go wading anymore.  Instead, they got on the playground. Then we went to the pier, where our older daughter managed to win Eeyore from the grab machines (and the other one cried because she didn’t get one).  Afterwards, they bought a dozen doughnuts.  It was a long walk back to the car, but it was enlivened with a display of fireworks from far off.  We didn’t realise it at the time, but the fireworks were being set off at the marina.  We hadn’t thought we parked THAT far!  Needless to say, the kids fell asleep on the way back and we had to carry them in and put them to bed.  We were exhausted.

Yank by — May 25, 2009 in Leisure 3

With our recent car troubles, I’d like to thank all those marvelously decent British motorists and passers-by who asked if we needed help.  Not that there was much anyone could do, especially those out walking their dogs, but we do appreciate the kindness and thought that came with the questions.  And special thanks to the gentleman who came out of his house (in front of which we had parked once) and offered his tools.  Sorry, we didn’t catch your name.  Not only did you help us on our way, you provided some temporary entertainment.[ad#ad-1]

When our car breaks down, I like to turn away and pretend everything’s OK.  I’d stare out at the grass, or whatever, to take my mind off the problem.  I have to say that I have been pleasantly surprised by the number of cars that stopped to make sure we were OK and the walkers who asked if we needed help.  In the US, you’d have to wait for a cop, making his rounds, to stop and help.  Sometimes, truck drivers will stop or call for help for you.

Of course, things are different in the US.  You never know who might stop and hurt you.  You never know if you might get hurt trying to help.  So, it usually does fall to the policeman’s lot to check on you.  And, over there, you have cops and troopers driving around everywhere.  You don’t see a lot of cops on the roads here, unless they are responding to a call.  (Oh, yes, in Florida once, we had a ranger stop and help us out, just minutes after we had hung up with the AAA.  At first, we thought it was the AAA, but then we realised it wasn’t.  They have rangers patrolling the highways down there and they offer basic motorist services.  He gave us some gas and sent us on our way to the next service station.  If we had known we wouldn’t have had to call the AAA.)

We are members of the RAC, but it would not have been worth the call unless we needed them to tow us.  They have been helpful when we’ve called, and they are much better than the US AAA.  For now, we are just holding on until our parts come in.

Yank by — May 22, 2009 in My Journey 2